On the Trail
by Halcris
Summary: in response to pleas from several of my friends, here is the follow-up to the previous story Betrayal. C.I.5 had to catch up with Harman, of course, but it was not so easy to achieve.
**On The Trail.**

Bodie was feeling good !

After a busy day's work, he'd just come from St. Richard's hospital. He'd been to visit his partner Ray Doyle.

Ray had been very badly injured in a raid that had gone wrong. For several days his life had been despaired of, and Bodie had feared the end of their partnership.

But Doyle had come round, and since then had made a remarkable recovery.

He was now getting back on his feet, and with any luck would be discharged next week. Not fit to return to active duty yet, but well enough to return to his own flat, and look after himself.

As he drove away from the hospital, Bodie suddenly realised that he was hungry. He'd gone straight to the hospital after work, and it was now mid-evening.

Stopped at some traffic lights, he spotted a small bistro on the opposite corner. I've never been there, he thought. Maybe I'll give it a whirl. An easy parking space on the next street decided him. He pulled into it, and secured his car, safely locking away his gun and his radio-phone. He strolled back and crossed the road to the little bistro.

He found the entrance and went in. It was busy, though not totally full, and he was quickly shown to a small side table by the wall. He scanned the menu, chose something he thought he'd enjoy, made his order, and sat back to wait.

Relaxed, he gazed about him. It was a pleasant place, with nice furnishings, discreet lighting, and soft music playing in the background.

If the food's good I may come again, he thought.

A couple of tables away from him was a lively small party, clinking glasses. One of the girls had a couple of little packages in front of her, and what looked like a bundle of cards.

"Family party ?," said Bodie idly, as the waiter laid his food before him.

The man smiled, looking in their direction. "Yes," he said, "I think Maria has a birthday."

"Oh, you know them," commented Bodie.

"Yes, the Mortinellis," said the departing waiter.

Bodie's interest was suddenly quickened. So these were the new Mortinellis on the scene !

As he ate the meal, which was very good, he studied them discreetly.

The father, Eduardo, probably in his fifties, looked good for his age. His hair had only a touch of grey, and he hadn't yet started to put on weight, as so many older Italian men were inclined to. He smiled genially at his family, but there was a hard look about him.

Dino was a typical young Italian, olive skinned, dark hair and eyes, and with a dashing look about him. The two girls were alike, also with dark hair and eyes, and beautiful in a bold sort of way.

Well, he thought, I'll have something interesting to tell the boss in the morning, and to relate to Ray next time I visit him.

Bodie bounced into Cowley's office next morning. "Something interesting," he began eagerly.

Cowley stopped him short.

I know," he said, "You saw the Mortinellis last night."

Bodie was taken aback. Did this man know everything ?

Seeing his puzzled look, his boss enlightened him. "I said we'd keep an eye on them, didn't I ?," he said.

Of course, thought Bodie. Whoever was watching them saw me as well. He accepted the day's orders quickly and left, feeling a bit deflated.

However, later that evening, he found a more receptive audience when he went to visit Doyle. His friend listened with interest as he described the family.

"Thinking of 'chatting up' one of the girls ?," Doyle asked cheekily

"No way," said Bodie firmly. "A father with his reputation ? Much too dangerous."

He passed on one bit of information re the last mission. "The French have picked up Lemaire. I'm going to collect him at Heathrow tomorrow afternoon."

"Well that will be one loose end tied up," said Doyle. "Any word about Harman ?"

"No." Bodie admitted, "No trace as yet."

"He was a fool," said Doyle. "I suppose he was being rewarded for any information he passed on. Maybe he was desperate for money. But if he'd waited six months or a year, till all the new men settled in, he would have attracted less notice."

One afternoon, a week or so later, Doyle climbed carefully out of Bodie's car, and moved to open the door to his flat. It seemed such an age since he'd been here last, and he was looking forward to enjoying his own space again. With Bodie carrying his bag, the pair moved inside.

Suddenly Doyle stopped and stood stock still. "Someone's been in here !," he exclaimed.

"Yes," said Bodie, "Me, several times, to pick up your post, and to collect that book you wanted to finish reading."

Doyle had started prowling restlessly, looking all about him. "No," he declared. "It's more than that."

"Well, I had Sally with me this morning," said Bodie. "She helped me pick up some basic provisions for you, stuff for your 'fridge."

Doyle had disappeared into the bedroom, and Bodie followed him.

"Someone's been in here too," said Doyle.

"Of course," agreed Bodie, beginning to get a bit irked. "Sally and I packed a bag with the clothes you've got on now."

But his friend wasn't satisfied.

"There's an atmosphere," he declared, "and lots of little things misplaced."

"You've been away too long," said Bodie, "Come on, let's have a coffee."

He returned to the kitchen and began to set out what he needed. He reached into the cupboard for the jar, and began spooning coffee into two mugs,

.Doyle almost snatched the jar from his hand. "I'd not long opened a new jar," he said. "It was almost full then."

Bodie looked into the jar. It was barely half full. He looked at his friend, and saw the agitated look on his face.

"Bodie," exclaimed Doyle, "Someone's been staying here ! I want Malcolm to have a check on the place, and to change the locks."

He moved off again towards the bedroom.

Bodie was in a quandary. Doyle was behaving oddly, not at all like himself. He decided to call his boss. He quickly explained what Doyle had been saying

"He's getting agitated," he told Cowley, "and that's not like him. He's not completely fit yet, and this isn't helping."

At first Cowley, busy as always, was inclined to dismiss it as silly imaginings. But then he had second thoughts. "We've trusted Doyle's instincts before," he said slowly. "All right, I'll send Malcolm."

The forensic team, headed by Malcolm, were there very quickly, and started their skilled work. One man, starting with the coffee jar, was collecting finger prints. He reported his first findings to Malcolm.

Bodie had persuaded Doyle to sit down and rest, worried for his state of health. Malcolm came to them.

"You might be onto something, Doyle," he said. "There are lots of prints everywhere that aren't yours or Bodie's. I've sent them off to Records."

Just then his phone 'beeped'. He answered and listened intently, and then reported to the listening pair. "They can't find them there," he said.

Just then one of his men hurried in from the bedroom, with something in his hand. He showed it to his boss, but Doyle, watching intently, almost snatched it from his hand.

"It's a 'bug'," he exclaimed. Then something dawned on him. "Exactly like the one I destroyed !."

Then realization swept in. "Harman, of course," he declared. "He's been hiding out here.!"

He looked round at several astounded faces.

"He's cleverer than I gave him credit for," he said. He turned to Bodie.

"Don't you see," he said. "When Harman heard I wasn't dead, and was recovering, he knew he had to get out. My flat was going to be empty for quite a while, so he decided it would be an excellent place to hide out, while he made his proper plans. No-one would think of looking here."

"That's true," admitted Bodie ruefully. "None of us even considered that. The cheek of the man !," he added angrily.

Doyle turned to Malcolm. "Try personnel files for your prints," he suggested. This was quickly done, and confirmed what Doyle had guessed.

Malcolm's men checked every inch of the place before declaring it 'all clear'. After they had changed the locks on all the doors, they left to put in a detailed report to Cowley.

"He must have found some sort of key that worked," said Doyle as the pair sat over a meal later. "This place isn't overlooked, and it's virtually sound-proof too, so no-one would have known he was here, and he's sufficiently well-trained to make sure he wasn't seen, coming in or going out."

"I still can't get over the nerve of the man," said Bodie, "and you can be sure we won't rest till we get him."

Eventually he stood up to go. "Will you be all right ?" he asked.

"Of course I will," replied Doyle indignantly. "Malcolm given the place 'all clear', hasn't he ? And they changed the locks and up-dated the alarm system.

Besides," he added cheerfully, "I may not be 100% fit, but I'm not an invalid !"

He aimed a playful punch at his mate's shoulder. Bodie grinned and dodged away, glad to see he was more himself again.

"I heard what Dr. Fenton told you, though," said Bodie. "You're to rest at home for a week and then go back for a check-up."

"And not to drive yet," said Doyle, pulling a face. Then his expression lifted. "Doesn't mean I can't be a passenger, does it ?"

"Steady on, mate," said Bodie. "We'll have to see how you go. Anyway, I am off on an enquiry with Murphy tomorrow, but I'll drop by in the evening, and see how you are doing."

Doyle slept well that night, eased by the comfort of his own bed, after weeks of hospital mattresses. But he found that when he'd got up, showered and dressed, and made himself some breakfast, that the prospect of a quiet day resting in his own home was very appealing. He knew he must resist trying to do too much too soon. So he spent the day reading, listening to his music, and watching a little T.V. He even managed a short nap in the afternoon.

So when Bodie rolled in later that evening he found his mate calm and settled and much more himself.

Bodie had brought in supper, and they sat down companionably to enjoy it. Dawdling over coffee afterwards, Doyle suddenly broached the idea he'd been thinking about for a while.

"Sally phoned this afternoon," he began, "to ask if I was all right. Then I suddenly had this idea. Did Harman use my phone while he was here ? He could have done, trying to make some plans to get right away. Can we do some work together tomorrow, and find out ?."

"You're supposed to be resting," protested Bodie.

"I will be," retorted Doyle, "Just sitting in the car, and then following you around, letting you do all the work, just listening as you do the enquiring."

"It is a good idea," mused Bodie pensively. "He might have tried to organize his escape, and it could give us an idea where he's gone."

He grinned at his partner. It would be good to be together again. "Tell you what," he said. "I'll run it past the boss, and ring you in the morning."

Cowley knew from experience how restless Doyle could be when he was convalescent but not quite fit for duty. But after some thought, he decided that he would be all right going round with Bodie to keep an eye on him, so he gave his assent.

So next morning found the pair out together, making the relevant enquiries. Doyle was quite content to take a figurative 'back seat', to let Bodie do all the work. It took quite a while, but eventually they got the answers they wanted.

Bodie showed Doyle the paper he had been given.

"You were right, mate," he said. "He did make a couple of calls, and judging by the date of them, soon after he first moved in."

He passed the piece of paper to Doyle. "And just look what the first one was," he said, "A call to the Mortinelli house."

"Perhaps to Dino Mortinelli," suggested his partner, "We did suspect that he'd passed Bates list on to him." He looked a bit closer.

"It was a very short call," he commented, "As if maybe he asked for someone who wasn't available. I wonder if he was told where to contact him ?."

"Well, we'll go and ask Dino," declared Bodie firmly.

"Do you know where to find him ?," asked Doyle.

"Not right at this moment," admitted Bodie, "but they are all being watched, aren't they ?. So it won't take a minute to find out."

A girl approached with a second piece of paper, details of the second call. Bodie scanned it eagerly before passing it to his partner.

"Wilson's of Knightsbridge !," he exclaimed. "Who the heck are they ? I've never heard of them."

"I have," said Doyle. "A very expensive florist."

"Don't tell me you've used them ," retorted Bodie incredulously.

"No way," replied Doyle with a grin, "Far too pricey ! I have walked past there a couple of times, and their window displays are brilliant."

Then he looked puzzled. "But what on earth would Harman want with an expensive florist ?," he mused.

"Probably planning to send a wreath for you," joked Bodie, and grinned as his partner pulled a disapproving face.

"Anyway, after we've spoken to Dino," he said, "we can pay them a visit and find out."

He pulled out his radio-phone and made a quick call to base. In seconds he had his answer, the current whereabouts of Dino Mortinelli. He passed the information on to his partner.

"Apparently, Dino has taken over an old closed-down club in Soho, and is busy refurbishing it to re-open under the name Corelli's. He's to be found there most days, supervising the work."

A little while later found the pair approaching the entrance to Corelli's. The man on the door, who had worked at the old club, took one look at the I.D.s they flashed, and knew better that to refuse them admittance.

The interior was in the process of elaborate re-decoration, with several workmen busy on walls and ceilings.

Having been told who they were, Dino eyed them warily as they approached. He'd heard about C.I.5 from several of his relatives.

But Bodie, looking about him with interest, spoke pleasantly. "This is going to be a splendid place when it's finished," he said, and Dino mellowed slightly

"How can I help you ?," he asked politely.

"We are trying to check up on a phone call to your place a couple of weeks ago," Bodie explained.

Dino looked puzzled, and Bodie went on.

"We think a man we are after may have come to see you here," he said, "A man called Harman."

Dino looked blank, suspicious of the question. "Did he ?," he said, "I don't remember."

Bodie persisted, describing Harman carefully, and Dino decide to co-operate.

"Oh, him," he said, "Yes, he did come here. He sold me some information once, and seemed to think that meant I owed him."

"What did he want ?," asked Doyle.

"He said he wanted help to get out of the country," replied Dino, with a sneer. "I told him to 'get lost', and had him chucked out."

"Any idea where he went ?," asked Bodie.

"Not the slightest," replied Dino, "and I couldn't care less. I'd forgotten about him till you asked, but I've better things to do. Sorry, I can't help you."

The pair left then. Bodie insisted that they stop for a break and a snack. He was being careful about Doyle getting over-tired.

As they sat over a light meal they discussed what they'd heard.

"I'm inclined to believe him," said Doyle.

"I agree," said Bodie. "We won't get any help there. Still next stop is the flower shop. I'm curious about that, aren't you.?"

So the pair moved on to Knightsbridge. Although he didn't have Doyle's artistic streak, Bodie could see what he meant about the window-displays. They were impressive, as was the opulent atmosphere as the entered the foyer of the premises.

A distinguished-looking gentleman, resplendent in tail coat and striped trousers, stepped forward to meet them. He had a disapproving look on his face, as they hardly looked like potential customers. And he soon found they weren't.

"We are trying to find out about a phone call made here a couple of weeks ago," began Bodie, and gave the man details of the date in question.

The man turned to a large gilt-edged order book on the desk, and turned over the pages. He looked puzzled. "I see no order placed on that date," he declared.

A girl in a smart green overall, who had been hovering nearby, stepped forward. "I think I took that call, Mr. Fortesque," she said.

"Then perhaps you can help these gentlemen," he answered stiffly, and moved away in a dignified if slightly offended manner.

The girl drew them to one side. "I do remember that call," she said, "for it was a bit unusual."

"Go on then," encouraged Bodie, smiling at her.

"It was a gentleman with an Australian accent," she began "He said he was here on a trip and was trying to trace some of his English cousins. He was looking for an Albert Wood."

"Bodie and Doyle exchanged glances. The name meant nothing to them.

"We have a van driver called Bert Wood," she went on, "He wasn't in at the time, so I had a look in the personnel file, and gave the man his address and home phone number. He was very grateful, and said he would contact him, and see if he was the right Albert Wood."

"Interesting," said Bodie, "I think we'd better trouble you to give us the same information."

Charmed by his smile, she hurried off, and returned a few moments later with a neatly-written slip of paper. Bodie thanked her, and they left. She gazed after them longingly. It wasn't often that something like this enlivened her day.

"Right," said Bodie, as they returned to the car. "You've done enough for one day. You're only just out of hospital. I'm taking you home now, and you can put together our report for Cowley, while I go and get us something to eat. What do you want, fish and chips or Chinese ?."

The following morning Doyle waited to hear from his partner. But Cowley had decided that Bodie needed a fully-active back-up, and had assigned Jax to him until Doyle was declared fit.

So it was nearly mid morning before the pair rolled up at Doyle's place, and came in, demanding coffee.

"This isn't a drop-in café," protested Doyle.

"Ah, but you want to hear what we've found, don't you ?," said Bodie.

"We've been looking up Albert Wood in Records," he said,"and a nasty piece of work he is too. He's been done for burglary, car theft and GBH. We are going on after this to pick him up."

But he suddenly realised that Doyle was looking very puzzled.

"What's up, mate ?," he asked.

"It's all wrong," said Doyle firmly. "Wilson's would never employ someone without checking them, and they'd never take on a man with that background."

Bodie and Jax began to look doubtful, as they realised the sense of what he was saying.

"Have you got a picture ?," asked Doyle. Bodie nodded, and fished in his pocket. "Well, if you take that to Wilson's, I'm willing to bet they say it isn't their man. And I'm sure the 'last known address' isn't right either."

Bodie was taken aback. That last bit was right. They'd just assumed the man had moved.

Doyle reached up to a shelf, and pulled down the phone directory.

"Wood isn't an uncommon name," he said. "I've been checking. There are several 'A Wood's' listed, and the first address agrees with what the girl gave us. I think Harman got the name Bert Wood from somewhere, and is trying to track him down. I'll bet he's tried some of the others, too."

Bodie turned to Jax with a perplexed look. "I think we'd better check that," he said.

They left soon after that, leaving behind a frustrated Doyle, who would have liked to be with them. Jax and Bodie came back again mid-afternoon.

"You were right, Ray," said Bodie, "The van driver at Wilson's isn't the man in our records. And it looks as if Harman has been trying out some of the others listed in the book. We've got men working on that now."

Then Doyle dropped his second bombshell. "And we could all be totally wrong," he said.

"What do you mean ?," asked Bodie.

"Well, like Harman, we've assumed that 'Bert Wood' meant Albert," replied Doyle.

"Well, it does, doesn't it ?," said Jax. "What else could it be ?."

"Gilbert !," retorted Doyle, "or even Bertram."

The listening pair looked astounded. No-one had thought of that.

"So I looked again," Doyle went on. "There's no B. Wood's listed, and there's only one G. Wood, but that's a lady, and it's a Mayfair number, so I don't think it would be her."

Bodie and Jax were silent. Doyle had been busy ! And he had more to tell them.

"But I looked in the business section, and there's a couple of Gilbert Wood's there," he informed them. "One's a garage in Brixton, and the other's a builder's yard in Lewisham. Possibilities, don't you think ?."

"Bodie threw a quizzical look at Jax. "Isn't it great to have brains ?," he said. "Do you think we could pass this off to 'the Cow', as if it was our idea ?," he said, not seriously, of course.

"I wouldn't risk it," replied Jax, "He'd know at once, wouldn't he ?. He seems to know everything."

"Too true," agreed Bodie.

So the two hurried off back to base, to convey all this information to Cowley.

Jax was right. Cowley knew at once where it had come from, but made no comment. He was not in the habit of handing out praise. He expected his men to do well, and for the most part they did. The failure of his judgement over Harman still rankled badly, but he congratulated himself on having chosen well when he co-opted Doyle into his squad. Even below par and out of action, he was still a real asset, and pairing him with Bodie had worked very well.

He quickly assimilated all he was hearing, and all the possible leads it had given them to catching up with the treacherous Harman.

He glared at the two in front of him. "Well, why are you still here ?," he barked. "You have been given a great many leads to follow. Get busy on them !."

Jax and Bodie shot off at the double, and spent the next day checking up on many different things

They quickly found that Harman had indeed contacted all the Albert Wood's listed in the phone book, but hadn't continued the contact with any of them.

That raised another question. Had it dawned on Harman that 'Bert' didn't necessarily mean 'Albert' ? And had he cottoned on to other possibilities. ?

Surveillance was set up on both the 'G. Wood' businesses, but that didn't produce any promising results either.

The builder's yard was a small business, run by one man and his two sons, one of whom was a disabled ex-serviceman, who managed to deal very well with taking orders and keeping the accounts, while the other two did the manual work.

But their projects were usually quite small and domestic, and their reputation was very good. There was nothing suspicious there.

Nor was there anything untoward at the garage. It was a normal petrol station, and repair yard, run by two partners, with a small hire-car business to augment their income. But it had been going for years with never a hint of trouble.

Bodie and Jax visited Doyle as often as they could, and brought him up to date on what they were doing. He was always pleased to see them, as he was getting very bored with so little to do. He'd managed a few leisurely strolls to his local shops, but had been disgusted at how that had tired him. He knew he had to take it gradually, but he was fed up with the weakness he was feeling.

So he welcomed his friends company.

"We're not getting anywhere," said Bodie despondently, on one of their visits. "No sign of anything dodgy, or any reason why Harman should try to contact any of them."

"Well, it could all be a mistake," said Doyle, not very helpfully. "Harman could have got a name from somewhere, but it might be someone else entirely from the ones we've found."

"Thanks for nothing !," retorted Bodie. "Letting us know we could have been wasting our time. Have you any other bright suggestions ?."

"Have you got a picture of Harman ?," asked Doyle.

"Of course," replied Bodie, "there's an APB out on him."

"Have you shown it to the builders, or at the garage ?," went on Doyle. "That might help."

So the following day, Bodie and Jax rolled into the builder's yard. They found one man in the small office, and the other two busy loading a lorry with building materials. They showed them the picture, but all of them declared they had never seen the man in question, and the name meant nothing to them. They were friendly and open enough, but totally unable to help, and the pair left, convinced there was nothing more to be learnt there.

But it was a different story when they went to the garage !

As they pulled their car onto the forecourt, and moved towards the office, a man came out to meet them. He was polite and looking to be helpful to potential new customers, but as soon as they showed him the picture, he became animated and excited.

"You've found him !," he exclaimed. "What about the car ?."

But the totally blank looks on the faces before him puzzled him.

"You are the police, aren't you ?," he said.

"Not exactly," replied Bodie and the pair produced their I.D.s.

"Are you looking for him too ?," asked the man in some bewilderment.

"Maybe, I'd better explain," said the man. He pointed to the picture.

"He came here about a month ago. He hired a car from me. He hired it for a whole month. He was an Australian, over here on a visit, and he was going to go all over the country trying to trace some of his relations."

Bodie and Jax exchanged glances. This was a similar story to the one he'd told the girl at the florist's.

"He paid up front," the man went on, "and he had all the necessary papers, all correct. But he should have been back this last week-end. He didn't turn up ! So Monday morning, I phoned the police and told them. They said they would look out for him. When you came I thought you were them."

Bodie and Jax had brightened up considerably. It looked as if they might be getting somewhere at last.

"So Harman hired a car, did he ?," Bodie exclaimed.

The garage-owner looked blank. "Harman, ?," he said, "that's not the name he gave me." Bodie showed him the picture again.

"But it was him ?," he questioned, having a taut moment's doubt.

"Oh, yes," said the man decisively. "Come in the office and I'll show you all the paperwork."

They followed him in, and waited as he rifled in his ledger to find the right entry. They were eager to find out what kind of car Harman had taken. This was a lead that might well bring results !

They carefully noted down all the details. The car that Harman, using a false name, had hired was a white Escort, and they took note of the number-plate.

Thanking the man, they left. Bodie drove straight to the local police station that Mr. Wood had contacted.

He marched in determinedly, and went up to the desk where a rather sleepy-looking constable was on duty, and got straight to the point.

"I'm enquiring about Mr. Wood's report about the hire-car that hasn't been returned," he said. What have you done about it ?."

A bit disgruntled by Bodie's abrupt manner, the man rather grudgingly looked it up.

"We've put it on the stolen cars list," he reported at last.

"Not good enough," snapped Bodie, thinking of all the time that had been lost. He whipped out his I.D. card.

"I want an urgent APB on it," he demanded, almost thrusting the card under the man's nose.

The constable, a relatively new man, had never encountered a C.I.5 man, let alone one as cross as this tall dark-haired man. He sought help from his sergeant, who hurried from the back room. He was much more knowledgeable, and knew full well about Cowley and his team, and the power they wielded. So he hurried to comply with the request, and almost obsequiously promised it would be done at once.

Bodie and Jax visited Doyle again and brought him up to date on what they had uncovered.

"It's the old cliché, 'too little, too late', isn't it," said Doyle, looking rather disappointed.

"I suppose we should have thought about him wanting a car," mused Jax thoughtfully. "But there are so many of these small places like Wood's, that he could have gone to, and anyway, he used a false name."

"If he's had a car for a month," said Doyle, "he could be anywhere. Might even have made it across the Channel."

"Maybe not," said Bodie, trying to be a bit more optimistic. "There was an APB out on him."

But after they had taken all the findings back to Cowley, the general feeling was that the trail had gone cold, and there was nothing more to go on. The only hope was that perhaps the car might still be spotted somewhere, but after the time lapse that was a very faint hope.

With some difficulty, Doyle managed to get through the rest of the tedious week. Just to get of the house, he started to take more short walks round his neighbourhood, increasing their duration as he found they were helping his recovery. He began to feel confident that his visit to the hospital for the check-up would produce a good result.

And it did ! The doctor declared that he was very pleased with his progress, and he was fit for the next step in his rehabilitation, a session at the training camp to restore his physical strength and muscle.

Delighted with this, Doyle persuaded Bodie to pick him up the next day to take him into Headquarters to arrange this.

Although now cleared to drive, Doyle didn't have access to a car yet. He hadn't owned his own car since his prized 'classic' had been destroyed, but had been using one from the 'pool'. As he had been ill so long, that had been returned there, and he couldn't very well reclaim it until he was passed fit for active duty.

So Bodie obliged, and took him in as requested. Doyle tapped on Cowley's door and was called in. He was looking forward to being sent down to the training camp, where he was sure Jack Craine, the man in charge, would get him fully fit again.

"Ah, Doyle," said Cowley, looking up from the papers on his desk. "About time, too." His gruff tones concealed his pleasure in seeing one of his best men looking so well after having so nearly lost him.

"I've seen the doctor's report," he went on, "and I've got onto Jack. He's just finishing off a course with a special group, but he's worked out a regime for you. I'll get Bodie to take you down there on Friday."

"Very good, sir," said Doyle, and turned to go.

"Just a minute," said Cowley. "I've just had a bit of news. Harman has been spotted ! A young constable saw the car, and picked up on the number-plate. As he was off-duty, just walking his dog in the park, he couldn't follow, but he went straight to a phone and called it in."

"Where was this, sir ?," asked Doyle.

"South Croydon," replied his boss, "and it was travelling south. They're stepping up the watch in that area. Tell Bodie, will you."

Doyle hurried to the rest room. Bodie was still there, waiting for Jax to join him. Doyle passed on the information.

"Good," said Bodie, enthusiastically, "He's still in London, then. We'll get him yet !."

Several other agents came in to consult the duty roster, and greeted Doyle warmly, very pleased to see him on the way back. As Bodie and Jax were off again on a job, one of them dropped him home, and he spent the rest of the day putting together what he would need for his stay at the training camp. He was looking forward to it. Jack would be a hard task-master, but he would get him back on form.

So he was ready and waiting when Bodie and Jax rolled up to collect him early Friday morning, and they quickly set off on the trip south of the river to the training camp.

Bodie had the car-phone open, in case there were any urgent calls, and they could hear reports from other agents in the background. There was nothing of interest at first, but as they crossed over the Thames, glinting in the sunlight, and moved well on further south, they suddenly were alerted by an excited call.

"Harman's car spotted in South Croydon again," came the report, "Closing in to try to give chase."

"That's Morton and Forbes," said Jax, recognizing the voice. "Car 62. We aren't that far away, by the sound of it."

Bodie called into base, and asked to be put through to the car in question. Morton responded and Bodie asked him for details of just where they were. He discovered that they were on a roughly parallel course to them, but that he and Jax were about 10 to 20 minutes behind.

Bodie at once tried to speed up, but was hampered by the morning traffic.

Jax had immediately grabbed the road map. He studied it eagerly and began to direct Bodie, naming the turnings to take that would bring them nearer the car in front. They gradually gained a little time, and soon were nearly on the same track, though still a bit behind.

Then they heard another call from Morton. "We've lost him," he reported in a most disappointed tone, "We got stuck at a level-crossing, and had to wait for two trains to go through. We'll continue and scout around, but we can't tell where he's gone."

Ten minutes later, Bodie took his car over the same level-crossing, perfectly clear now.

Jax had been looking around him. "You know what," he said suddenly, "We're not that far from the old depot. He couldn't be hiding up there, could he ?."

Bodie looked at the other two questioningly. "We're not pushed for time," he said. "Shall we take a short diversion, and have a quick look ?."

The other two nodded eagerly. Under Jax's direction as he read the map, aided by his knowledge of the area, they were soon trundling up the rough track and into the yard in front of the old depot.

"The car's not here," said Doyle in a disappointed tone.

"But the cars weren't here last time," said Jax. "We found them later, on the other side of the hill."

"That's true," agreed Bodie, as he climbed out of the car. Jax followed him, but as Doyle made to get out, Bodie stopped him.

"Not you !," he said firmly. "We're armed and 'on-duty'. You're not. Stay here with the car."

Doyle protested, but Bodie was adamant. "I could lock you in the car," he said menacingly, and Doyle knew he meant it, so reluctantly he gave in.

Bodie and Jax shot off to the stairs at the far end of the yard, and began to climb up.

Well at least I can watch them, thought Doyle. He climbed out of the car, but stood there leaning on it, watching the other two as they moved from one room to another, waving to him as they emerged with a sign to indicate they weren't finding anything.

Then his eye was taken by something he hadn't noticed before. Under the stairs at this end was a small door. Not the big sliding door, but a single one next to it, half hidden in the dark shadows under the stairway.

And it was slightly ajar !.

Intrigued, Doyle totally forgot Bodie's caution. Straightening up, he moved quickly across the yard, and slipped through the doorway.

Most of the large storage area was very dark. But just to his left there was a fair amount of light, as there was another small door right at the back. It was open, showing a glimpse of the green hillside beyond. The place appeared to be empty apart from a couple of broken crates in the centre of the floor.

But he suddenly realised his mistake, as a voice spoke to him out of the darkest shadows.

"You should be dead," it said in icy tones. "I didn't miss, I never miss ! It must have been because Gant was in front of me."

A figure appeared out of the darkness as Harman took a couple of paces forward. And now Doyle could see the weapon in his hand, pointing directly at him.

He berated himself for being an impulsive fool. Why couldn't he have waited till the others had cleared the top floor and come back down ?

He looked again at Harman. The man, bearded now, looked scruffy and very ill-kempt, as if he'd been living rough.

"I've been trying to get out of the country," went on Harman. "That swine Mortinelli wouldn't help me, nor would the man who paid me to plant those' bugs'."

"Who was that ?," asked Doyle quickly, playing for time, and hoping to divert the man.

"Wouldn't you like to know ?," said Harman in a sneering tone. "But C.I.5 will have to find that out for themselves."

"But I'll finish the job I started," he said, raising the gun, and Doyle tensed. Harman boasted again, "This time I'll do it properly, I never miss."

"Neither do we !," came a hard voice, and there was Bodie in the far doorway, and Jax in the near one, guns steady in their hands.

Startled, Harman took a step forward, swinging the gun from one to the other wildly. Then, giving a frustrated snarl of rage, he swung it back towards Doyle.

Three shots rang out, almost in unison !

Two figures fell to the solid concrete floor. But to Bodie's great relief, as he charged forward, one immediately began to scramble up again. He reached out thankfully, and gave Doyle a hand to get back to his feet.

"Are you all right ?," he asked anxiously.

"I'm fine," said Doyle, a little breathlessly. "I managed to drop sideways, and I was quick enough."

All three looked down at the motionless figure on the ground.

"Well, he missed this time," said Jax, cheerfully, "And it was his last chance."

Bodie took his partner's arm and steered him through the doorway and back towards the car.

"Come on," he said. "I've got to let the boss know about our little diversion, and what resulted, and then we've got to get you to training camp."

They all got back into the car. Doyle, for one, was glad to sit down. He'd made a mistake that could have ended very badly, and it had shaken him a bit.

Bodie was quickly on the car-phone and through to Cowley. He explained exactly what had happened.

Secure in his office, Cowley was very pleased with the outcome.

A last loose end had been tied off, and a traitor dealt with. And he felt a certain satisfaction, in the fact that, to his mind, the right people had dealt with it, though nearly at too high a cost.

But none of this showed in his voice as he quickly issued orders.

"I'll expect a detailed report in the morning," he said brusquely. "I'll send Morton and Forbes to clear up, as they aren't far away. But you had better get on and finish what you were supposed to be doing."

So Bodie started the car and was soon back on course.

"I wonder what Jack's got lined up for you, Doyle." He said as they neared the camp. "It could be tough."

"I don't care," said Doyle, "I'll enjoy it."

He knew Jack would work him hard, but it would be worth it, to be fully fit again, and back working with colleagues like these two.


End file.
